It is now Lent

Tomorrow marks the beginning of Lent - traditionally people give up something for Lent. It could be chocolates, drinks, entertainment or something similar.

For Lent I am giving up caring.

What's the use of caring? 

What is the point of shaving and trimming my beard every day? It grows back again in a few days.

What's the use of wearing clean close every day? They get dirty again soon enough.   

What's the use of vacuum cleaning every day? The house gets dirty again in a few minutes. Now the vacuum cleaner stands in the corner gathering dust by itself. 

What is the point of watching the News on TV and getting upset at what's happening in the world? I can't control anything anyway.

So I decided to stop caring altogether about everything.

Other things I will not care about are whisky, chocolates and cookies and cakes and other goodies I like.

I'll give the money I saved to The Salvation Army, because I care about them and the work they do.

Trust Ahoy!

 

The Disciples were on a boat a distance from the land, buffeted by the waves because of the wind. They saw Jesus walking on water coming towards them. Peter asks Him, “tell me to come to you on the water.” Moments later Peter panics and begins to sink, and Jesus saves him. (Matthew 14:22-33 The story of Jesus walking on water is retold in the gospels of Matthew, Mark, and John.)

We often criticise Peter's lack of faith; but how about the other Disciples? They did not trust Jesus at all did they?

When I worked for a large multi-national we often had "team-building" events. I hated them. On one occasion they asked us to stand on a box and lean back so that someone behind us would catch us from falling. I declined to take part. The man behind me was small and a weakling and I thought I'd flatten him if I fell on him. There's no way he would catch me. The organisers said I was no "team-player"; they decided I had leadership potential instead.

How about you? Would you have trusted someone to catch you? 

When things go wrong in life, for you or for someone you love, do you trust God enough to take care of the situation? Or do you blame Him for things going wrong and not taking care of you?

I don't want to pontificate about this. I've had several things go really wrong in my life and at the time I focussed more on the bad thing than thinking about God. I just wanted to get through the event, whatever the outcome, rather than trust in God. Suddenly, He did not feature in my thinking. I forgot about Him.

Someone told me that when we're in real difficulties and we pray to God, it is not necessarily a sign of despair, but a testament to our faith. We pray because we believe there's Someone listening and we're not just talking to ourselves.

The thing is, do we pray with full confidence that He will answer our prayers, or do we doubt He will answer the way we would wish things to be.

Do we trust God totally - or with conditions?

It is no point having faith in a Master who walks on water if we do not trust Him enough to follow Him.

Valentine's Day

 

.

 

She stood on the bridge at midnight
Her heart was all a quiver
She gave a little cough
And her wig fell down the river 

 

 

Rose's are red

Violet's are blue

Enid's are green

And Sophie's are pink with white dots

 

 (I've seen them on the washing line)

 

 

A certain young lady named Lilly
Likes knickers - light pink and frilly.
In winter she wears
Maybe three or four pairs,
To keep her from feeling too chilly.

 

 

Say it with flowers

And chocolates too

Say it with jewellery

Or a good meal for two

Say it from the heart

Say what you think

But never be careless

And say it with ink 

 

 

LOVE IS ...

Helping your wife change the tires and the oil in the car ...

LOVE IS ...

Putting on the subtitles on TV whilst she's talking ...

LOVE IS ...

Not forgetting to pick up some flowers from a grave on the way home from work ...

LOVE IS ...

Saying sorry when you don't even know what you're apologising for ...

LOVE IS ...

Pretending to like her mom and not hide her broomstick when she lands unexpectedly ...

LOVE IS ...

Reminding her not to vacuum clean the house when football is on TV ...

LOVE IS ...

Laminating a card with the words "I love you" so she can read it when in need of reassurance ...

LOVE IS ...

Eating that last piece of pizza to save her from getting fat ...

LOVE IS ...

Knowing left from right when she gives you directions when driving ...

LOVE IS ...

When she looks at a dress or coat in a catalogue and says, "I like that!" to cut the photo and give it to her ...

 

LOVE IS ...

If it's a choice between a new pair of shoes or a box of chocolates, buy her a pair of shoes made of chocolate ...

LOVE IS ...

Not saying her backside looks big no matter what dress she's wearing ...

 

Role Model

 

Whether you like it or not we are all role models.

There is always someone watching us and ready to copy what we do. It could be our children, grand-children, relatives, friends, colleagues or even neighbours or people we do not know. 

We really cannot help being a role model. It is not up to us.

What is up to us is whether we are a good or a bad role model.

Do we set a good example by the way we live, what we say, how we behave and how others see us?

Are we the life and soul of the party, or do we brighten up the place by just leaving it?

When we are dead and gone will people talk about who we were or what we have done? 

Consider this: Years ago, if you were a Christian people would respect you perhaps, or be polite to you; even if they did not agree with your beliefs. Today, they would most probably ridicule you behind your back and think you're a bit weird in believing in an old man with a beard sitting on a cloud trying to oversee the world.  

Being a role model carries a lot of responsibility. Have we by our example led other people to an eternity in Paradise ... or to the other place?

And here is the real test: If you were another person watching you, would you want to copy what you are doing in life and the way you live?

Christian Questions

 

Imagine one day you hear a voice saying, "Stop wars. Love one another as I have loved you!". You did not imagine it. You heard it clearly. You're about to go tell someone when your spouse comes in. "Have you heard that?" Now you know for sure that you did not imagine it.

Moments later you hear people talking outside. You go out of the house and you recognise your neighbours and a few other people. They heard it too. The voice was loud and clear and it came from above. Some think it was from a helicopter perhaps. Then someone looking at his cellphone says, "Hey ... it happened in another country too. My cousin just texted me!"

As the day goes on, the news soon spreads. It seems at the same time the message was heard all around the world. Every TV and radio station is reporting that each country heard the same message in their own language at the same time.

World leaders contact each other. Statements are issued by presidents, prime ministers, kings and other leaders from all round the globe. No one has an explanation as to what happened. Not even the Pope. Or any other religious leader.  

Have you ever wondered why does God not talk to us clearly and plainly as He did at the time of Moses and the prophets?  

INTRODUCING 

CHRISTIAN QUESTIONS (You wondered but did not ask.) 

ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 979-8246647646

Whether we are Christians or not we have all from time to time asked ourselves, or others, questions about Christianity. Sometimes these may have been answered to our satisfaction by someone we love and respect, whereas at other times the questions have remained unanswered completely or satisfactorily.

Questions like: Who actually is God? Does He look human? Why can’t He speak to us clearly and loudly so we can hear Him? Did Jesus really have to die for us to be forgiven? Why does God let bad things happen to us? Does He test us to see how we will react? What do Heaven and Hell look like? Would we go there for eternity? Do ghosts exist?

Whilst no one has the real definitive answers to these and so many other questions, this book attempts to offer an explanation which you could consider and ponder or meditate about; or perhaps discuss with your friends.

Written in an easy to follow style and without preaching, each question is tackled in a friendly manner leaving you to decide whether you agree; or if not, why not.

With 70 questions discussed here, (with Bible references where appropriate), you will certainly have a lot of food for thought to ponder over and debate with your friends, or your Bible Study Group, or as a discussion topic at Religious Instructions classes for young people.

PAPERBACK AND KINDLE VERSIONS

AMAZON LINK HERE 

Peace

 

It's gone bananas

 

The world has gone bananas. Has it happened where you are?

I went to the shops today and all the bananas they are selling are straight - not a little bent as is traditional. It was the same at the greengrocers and the supermarket. Apparently, they are growing bananas straight these days so they can fit more in the boxes for transport. 

It's a little disconcerting. I'm not sure about eating straight bananas; I'm used to the bent shape as I eat it. 

This has given a whole new meaning to the saying "Going straight". It used to mean "live an honest life after being a criminal", now it means eating a straight banana.

What do you think? Have you seen a straight banana? Would you eat one or would you feel cautious in any way?

Nothing is as it used to be. Everything is changing. 

  

The Joys of getting older

They say people should grow old gracefully. What nonsense. As we grow older, now's the time to venture into a little mischief.

Men especially. They can get away with most mischief and people think they are cute because they are of a "certain age". They can be eccentric in the way they behave and no one seems to mind.

An old acquaintance of mine, was shopping at the supermarket. As we were at the check-out, a woman standing behind us, seeing a bag of "Woof Woof" dog food, asked him: "Do you have a dog?"

He replied: "No ... this is for me. I am on a dog diet. I probably should stop because the last time I ate some I ended in Intensive Care in Hospital."

She asked him to explain.

He said that essentially dog food is the perfect diet. He puts some "Woof Woof" pellets in his pocket and whenever he is hungry he eats a few.

She asked him if the dog food had poisoned him.

"No ..." he replied, "I just stepped off the curb to sniff a poodle's butt and a car hit me!"

As you grow older you can afford to be grumpy and get away with it. For example, the other day I had to go to the doctor for a routine check up. As I entered his insulting room he asked me nicely, "And how are you feeling these days?"

I replied, "What is it to you, you nosey beggar? Mind your own business!"

He was taken aback, but he sure will remember me next time I visit.

So there you are folks! Whether you are young or old. Act peculiar. Be a fruit cake. Be eccentric. Be remembered.

Take a dog lead with you for a walk. Stop by a tree and ask passers-by to help you get your dog down from the tree.

Take an old newspaper to the library and tell the assistant you have read it, can you change it for a new one.

Put a suppository in your ear and ask people to help you search for your hearing-aid.

Wear a lamp shade on your head and tell people to lighten up.

Eat a banana on the bus and throw the skin in someone's shopping bag. They'll get a pleasant surprise when they get home. 

Go to the supermarket and ask to buy one of those dividers they have on the conveyor belt check-out to separate customers shopping.

Don't buy anything from the supermarket and stand in line at the check-out. When it is your turn tell the shop assistant you bought nothing.

Go to the baker and ask him, "Have you got any bread rolls left?" If he says "Yes" tell him, "serves you right for baking so many!"

If you're a Catholic, like me, go to your priest for Confession  and ask him if he's heard any good rumours lately.  

Why not stick some feathers on a carrot and put it on your shoulder and tell people you're a vegetarian pirate?

Ask people in the street if they believe in free speech. If they say "YES" ask to borrow their cellphone to phone someone.

Knock on houses and tell people you're a door-to-door vacuum cleaner buyer. Do they have a vacuum cleaner for sale?

Here's another good trick. Dress properly and neatly. That should surprise the woman in your life.

Place a bobbin of white thread in the inside pocket of your jacket.

With a sewing needle push through a piece of the white thread through the shoulder of your jacket. Leave the thread hanging there on your shoulder. About two inches should do. It will look obvious on a dark jacket.

A woman is bound to be helpful and pick up the thread. As she pulls, more thread will come through from the reserve in your pocket. And more thread ... and more ...

Oh the fun I've had with the women in my life. 

Keep happy and enjoy what you like. An extra scoop of ice cream or a cake or whatever you fancy. 

Don't worry about tomorrow. It has already happened in Australia.

And don't forget to visit and/or submit articles to The Christian Lounge - whatever your age. 

Marriage Vows

 

Years ago when in France I was the best man at the wedding of my friend Yves Dominique Lefevre. On the day of his wedding he was very nervous; so to calm him down, before the ceremony in church, I took him to his favourite fast-food outlet for a quick snack.

He had frogs' legs, so he hopped all the way down the aisle to the front by the altar. He went at a snail's pace, but we got there at the end.

During the ceremony the priest asked him to say his vows. 

He said "Y A E I O U ..."

"Why Y?" I asked him.

He replied "Why Y? Be cos eet eez a vow in la belle France. Zee vows ere are Y A E I O U ... n'est ce pas?"

The priest was exasperated. Which is an unusual name to have, even in France. 

Can you imagine going through life as Father Exasperated, instead of being serene and humble.

Serene and Humble ... nice title for a TV Detective Series, don't you think?

Anyway, did you know in France they have extra bowels? Extra vowels too, it seems!

Who is Jesus?

 

Imagine you’re a person of authority in a Court of Law. 

The judge, the final arbiter, whatever you say happens. 

And they bring to you a man. He is fairly ordinary looking and they accuse Him of saying He is the Son of God. And this is blasphemy according to the Law and He should be put to death. 

Before you make such a momentous decision on the man’s life, you decide to do some investigations. 

You check and you find that this man has been around for about three years or so. He has been travelling up and down the land, and He has indeed said several times that He is the Son of God. He preaches to people and He tells them to repent from their sins and to follow the Way of the Lord. 

So you wonder about this and you think “Well, maybe if I can prove that this man is mad, I could let Him off. I could tell the people that He is insane, and they should let Him go, and I could warn Him not to repeat what He says because it would get Him into deep trouble”. 

So you check on the man’s sanity and you find that indeed He is not mad at all. Many people can testify to the fact that he has preached in the temples, and He has debated with religious elders, and shows no sign of being mentally insane whatsoever. Indeed, He is very wise. 

And you also find that this man seems to have some supernatural powers because He has healed many people up and down the country. The blind can see, the deaf can hear, the dumb can talk and the lame can walk. And there’s plenty of evidence for what He has done. There’s even a Roman Officer who can testify that He has healed. What better evidence do you want? 

And also, you understand, that apparently He has raised people from the dead. Now that’s very strange. No one has ever done that before. But again there’s plenty of evidence of that. There’s the family of a man called Lazarus who apparently had died and had been entombed for a few days yet Jesus raised him from the dead and raised other people from the dead. 

And when He preaches He says to people “Your Faith has saved you” whatever that means. And He heals them. 

He doesn’t charge at all for what He is doing. He just wants people to repent and follow the Lord. 

So you wonder whether He’s some sort of trickster, some sort of charlatan. So you order your soldiers to beat Him up and to rough Him a bit to see whether He admits to being a liar, a cheat. 

Your soldiers torture Him, beat Him up, they put a crown of thorns on His head because He claims to being a King of some sort. But after all that the man still does not say anything in His defence. 

So you give up. You think, “Well, He is one of their people. He is not one of us. So what’s it to do with me if they want to kill Him.” 

So you give orders for Him to be put to death. 

Your soldiers put a Cross on His back and ask Him to carry it all the way to the place where He is nailed to that Cross and left there to die. 

And just before He dies He asks God in Heaven, to forgive these people, because they don’t know what they are doing. 

What’s more strange is that three days later this very man is Himself raised from the dead.  And a lot of people see Him and can testify to his Resurrection. 

Now I wonder. Is this enough evidence that this man is really the Son of God? 

Because it is for me.

The long trip of coffee

 

It was a few years ago when my work colleague Jennifer and I drove to the city for an important meeting with some clients. We'd decided beforehand that she'd drive her own car, giving me the opportunity to read a financial report I needed for the meeting.

On the way back home Jennifer decided we stop at a cafe for some refreshments. She knew that this place served every kind of coffee you could wish for, and of course, she was right.

It was mid-afternoon when we set off again on the way home, Jennifer in the driving seat, and I sitting beside her making notes about the meeting and every so often seeking her advice and opinions on financial matters. She was a keen accountant equal to no one, so her views were invaluable.

An hour into the journey home we met a delay on the highway. All three lanes were full of cars as we slowed down to a snail's pace. Pretty soon we stopped in what turned out to be the longest car park I'd ever seen. Ahead of us, for as far as we could see, there were stopped cars in all three lanes. Behind us, within minutes, a longer queue of parked cars developed into eternity.

Every so often, we moved forward a few yards and stopped again. There'd probably been an accident ahead, or perhaps road works. There was no way of knowing. We were travelling at about 5 miles an hour if not slower.

And that's when the coffee came into play!

I felt I needed to go to the men's room; but unfortunately Jennifer's car did not have such a facility. At first I put up with the slight discomfort which, with every passing minute, grew into ... a more pronounced pain.

"Why are you fidgeting in your seat?" she asked me.

Embarrassingly, I told her. She sympathised by hoping we'd soon be out of this slow traffic.

Fifteen minutes later I became desperate. We'd been at a standstill for quite a while with cars parked all around us.

Jennifer said she had an idea. She got out of the car, opened the boot, and came back holding a small potty in her hand.

"We always keep this in the car for my young son," she said, "perhaps you could use it and then discreetly empty it on the road."

"What?" I asked in a panic, "I couldn't possibly ... besides, it's too small."

"I'm not asking you to place it on the ground and stand on the seat aiming at it!" she said irritably, "just do it sitting down."

"With you here beside me watching me? It's too embarrassing ... " I replied crossing my legs together.

"Forget it ..." she said with gritted teeth as she drove forward a few yards and put the brakes on suddenly turning my pronounced pain into extreme agony.

"What I meant ..." I said soothingly, "the potty is too small for me to use fully ..."

"Do it in stages ..." she replied increasing her level of irritability.

"I can't just turn it on and off like a faucet," I pleaded sheepishly.

And that's when I realised the reason for her uncharacteristic bad temper.

"And I can't exactly lift my dress up, pull down my underpants, and sit on the potty inside the car, can I?" she hissed under her breath, "or would you prefer me to sit on the potty in full view in the middle of the road? Besides ... what exactly have you got to hide? It's tiny size?"

She was obviously in the same coffee predicament as myself.

We drove silently for about twenty minutes when we eventually reached an exit on the highway. As soon as we left the highway I asked her to stop by some woodland and I ran behind a tree and some bushes to commune with nature.

Jennifer, on the other hand, was much more of a lady than I ever was, or will be. She got out of the car and asked me to drive.

I sped to the nearest diner a mile or so ahead where we welcomed a much earned comfort break; and then we sat down and enjoyed their variety of coffees.

Excerpt from my memoirs "AS I QUOTE MYSELF" 

CLICK HERE 

Frère Jacques Frère Jacques

 

It was a very hot summer and we were travelling in France on holiday in one of those big motor homes type vehicle. You know the one I mean? A large vehicle that includes a small bedroom, kitchenette and toilet facility. We had hired it as soon as we got to France and we intended to tour the countryside for a week or so in La Belle France!!! Olé.... sorry, we may have taken a wrong turning into Spain.

Anyway ... after our short diversion due to my wife reading the map upside down, and the GPS satellite lady telling me to go a different way, we were back into France and we stopped by the roadside in the middle of nowhere to consult the map properly. Isn't it awful driving with one woman telling you to go one way and the other the exact opposite?

I massaged my side due to a sharp elbow in my ribs from you know who whilst I was driving. 

We'd been stopped for a few minutes when there was a knock at the door of the motor home. I opened the door and standing there was a monk eating potato chips.

Not a chipmunk ... you've miss heard me ... I said a monk. One of those religious people who live in a monastery and grow their own vegetables and make wine and things for tourists to buy. You could tell he was a monk because he was wearing one of those dark brown Saint Francis of Assisi habits or uniform.

He must have been taken aback to hear me speak English. He stammered and said, "Excusez-moi ... eh ... veree soree ... Moi no speakee ze English good ... ere in ze car, (pointing to the car behind him, an old dusty Citroen), zere iz Père Martin ... e iz veree old and e wantz to do ze wee wee veree quicklee ... OK if e go in your toilette s'il vous plaît?"

Being a very charitable person I quickly replied, "Sorry mate ... the toilet is broken ... la toilette ... eet iz ze broken ..." 

I thought if I talked to him in a French accent he will understand and go away. 

It was then that I received yet another sharp elbow in the ribs. My wife, being more charitable said from behind me, "Oui ... oui ... monsieur ..." and opened the door widely to invite Père Martin to wee wee in our toilet.

Out of the car came Père Martin, followed by a nun called Sœur Celeste, (Sister Celeste), and Mère Supérieure Anna, (Mother Superior Anna). The original monk introduced himself as Frère Joseph. 

Would you believe it? They all wanted to use the toilet!!!

I have read about being charitable in the Bible, but there is nothing there about sharing your motor home toilet with complete strangers. 

What if they were not monks and nuns at all? What if they were gangsters running away from a crime they just committed and dressed like religious people? What if they wanted to steal our motor home? 

I found my old school Catechism in our luggage and I wanted to test their religiousness by asking them some questions. But yet another sharp elbow to the ribs put paid to that strategy.

"Oh ... c'est merveilleux," said Joseph the monk, "vous avez un ... eh ... ah au vin!"

I had heard of coq au vin, a French delicacy of cooking chicken with wine, so I thought he was asking me for some wine.

"No ... no ... I have no wine," I said, "no vin ... oui beer ... beer ... glug glug ... good English beer, not like the watery French stuff you have over here ... beer?"

"Au vin ... au vin ..." he repeated pointing to our kitchenette. 

"Ah ... oven? Yes this is an oven," I said having understood what he was on about.

"Voulez-vous des saucisses?" asked Mother Superior, "saucisses de venaison?"

"Venaison?" I repeated, "yes ... France is a great Nation ... so is Britain mind you. Have you ever been to Britain? You know ... God save our gracious Queen ..."

Mother Superior ignored me and opened the boot of the Citroen and brought out a large packet of dry sausages like salami or chorizos 

"Saucisses de venaison ..." she said, "c'est vraiment délicieux ..."

As she offered me her venison sausages the other nun brought out a huge panier type basket full of food ... French baguette bread, a variety of French cheeses, a couple of bottles of wine, and a lot of other goodies fit for a party. The two monks brought out a foldable table and chairs and they sat down ready for a picnic to which we were invited.

They stayed there for about an hour or so, speaking with us in broken English and French and enjoying their food and wine and our beer ... although they were not that keen on our black pudding, haggis and faggots which we had in the fridge.

As we were enjoying this lovely French picnic a police car drew up and two gendarmes came out. At first I thought perhaps we were parked in the wrong place, and no picnics were allowed where we were.

The two policemen conversed with the nuns and monks in their local language. They spoke quickly and I could not understand a word they said.

"They probably are criminals after all," I whispered to my wife, "we'd better move away!"

Then, without asking for permission or anything, the two policemen entered our motor home. I tried, as best I could, to speak to the monks about it. It transpired that the policemen thought the motor home belonged to the monks and they needed to use the toilet too!

After the policemen left, and we finished the picnic, the monks and nuns thanked us and left on their way.

Moments later I saw a big bull from a nearby field approach us slowly. We got in the motor home quickly and left, just in case he too wanted to use the toilet. 

The following day we took a deliberate detour and visited the monks' monastery some twenty miles away and spent the day there visiting.

Oh ... and to return the favour, we used their toilets. I went more than once to make up for the four of them using ours!